Posted in Blogging, Writing

Answering a Writing Challenge III

Part III of a writing challenge by Elizabeth at 1sojournal:

I never: bungee-jump or swim with the sharks. On second thoughts, I shouldn’t say that, as I’ve been in the Indian Ocean. Perhaps there were little sharks whisking around, and a few bigger ones further away. I was only little and not looking for them, so how would I know? I’m pretty sure I haven’t bungee-jumped though…

I am curious about: what other people think when they are on their own.

I remember: the sea breaking on the beach at night. It was so hot you threw back your sheet, and you were still hot. You thought about how black the sea was outside in the night, but it wasn’t frightening, as you only thought about the sparkling breakers, the sand and the coconut palms.

I also remember:
someone telling me off for typing ‘the Internet’ with a capital I, although it’s supposed to be correct. He says it will change and has probably already changed, and nobody with any sense will bother to give it a capital ‘I’. So now I see the spell checker telling me I’ve got it wrong, but I don’t do anything. I don’t like the capital I either, but it still bothers me… I want the green squiggly line to go away.

I am enlightened: by the words and experiences of others.

Posted in Blogging, Hearing Loss, Writing

Answering a Writing Challenge II

Part II of a writing challenge by Elizabeth at 1sojournal:

I hear: nothing… just a vague rumble. I can feel the house buzzing under my feet; it feels as though a wind is hitting the side of the house and getting underneath the floorboards. But it could be pipes or the water tank… I don’t know.

I removed my hearing aids because my ears were tired. Sometimes they get sore and I have to rest them for a day or two.

If Mum comes in behind me and wants my attention, she will stamp on the floor or thump the desk so that I feel the vibrations.

I regret: breaking things. Hurting feelings. Mishearing or misunderstanding things, or expressing myself poorly, especially when it leads to missed opportunities.

I always: support myself when going downstairs. When you live with cats, it’s sensible to be prepared!

I cry: as privately as possible. I hate funerals for that reason… I will never go to anyone’s funeral ever again if I can avoid it… but I will find my own way of remembering people. I read about those who fear people won’t come to their own funerals, and I don’t understand at all. I wouldn’t care. I will have escaped!

I don’t always: know what’s going on. In fact that’s such an understatement it’s almost funny. You miss cues and information about what everyone is doing and where they’re going. You wait for people to say goodbye to each other so that you can say goodbye too at the right moment. You wave when everyone surges forwards, only for the conversation to continue… or for those people to reappear (seemingly as arranged) at the next place. Then people finally leave, rushing off just as you’re looking the other way.

I fight: when I’m angry.

I write: more than I speak.

Posted in Blogging, Writing

Answering a Writing Challenge I

Well, as I have a hard copy of this in Word now, I can use ScribeFire to post it on my blog!

Answering a writing challenge by Elizabeth at 1sojournal:

I am: enjoying blogging and other internet interactions.
When I reread this sentence later, I thought it significant that I described blogging as an ‘interaction’ rather than some kind of platform where I write and other people read.

I think: too much. A few days ago I thought myself into a low mood. It’s called ‘remembering slights and wrongs, and brooding about them’. Elizabeth pointed out it can help to work through things in a private journal. I fear some subjects and avoid them, and if I do write about something bad that happened, it unsettles me all over again to read it later… even years later. But I wonder if laying out why one feels a certain way about things might help to make it less of a bugaboo.

I know: nothing’s ever black and white.

I hate: losing things I’ve worked on. An earlier attempt at this was swallowed by ScribeFire. I can’t remember everything I wrote (up to and including the point of ‘I hear’… which comes in a later part) and so I’m putting some different answers. I can’t recreate what was going through my mind before, as I was in a different mood.

I also hate: when people criticize those they’ve not met themselves or don’t know very well, or have never personally spoken to. What makes any of them think they know everything there is to be known about another person or family, and that it’s possible to ‘snap out of’ something they’ve never personally experienced? Some of those who are the most confident in their judgement are the least knowledgeable.

I miss: those days when I believed people actually listened to what you were saying and weren’t looking for an excuse to think the worst of you or anyone else.

I was starting to get a bit grumpy, but then I’d been reading some things that made my hair stand on end. πŸ™‚

Posted in Blogging

Cold Blogfeet

I keep writing blog posts in bed at night on my clipboard, after which I turn off the light thinking “that’s fine, I’ll type it up tomorrow”. Then next morning I think “I don’t want to post it; it’s stupid,” and that’s that.

It occurred to me that what I’m missing from my life just now is my private journal. I used it a lot before I started blogging, then it trickled off into silence. Now I can’t find my current journal, nor can I remember what it looks like.

I picked up the A4 2008 ‘week at a glance’ diary my sister got for me; I was supposed to put dog-walking engagements in it, but I don’t walk dogs any more. Thundercloud’s owner got a companion, and the companion does the dog-walking. Anyway, I decided I might as well use the 2008 diary till I discovered where my real journal has disappeared to.

I feel better. πŸ™‚ But I will let you have the following:

Monday 13 October 2008

Mum gets irritable if I watch newsy things on finances, so I only watch them when she’s not looking, with the sound turned off.

Tuesday 14 October 2008

Mum tried to pay her bill at (a shop) but the guy wasn’t there – has gone on holiday till next week.

I said “well it will give time for that cheque to clear,” and Mum said “it’s already in – I checked this morning!” I was surprised at the speed of it, and asked “are you sure? One of the other bloggers checked her hole-in-the-wall statement and it said she had ‘x amount’ in her account, so she tried to draw out some money, and it said she couldn’t. She asked inside, and they said she didn’t actually have that amount. She would have it next week, but it wasn’t there today.” Mum frowned and said sternly, “If MY bank did that to me, I would immediately switch.” Remembering that HER bank was currently swaying in the slightest breeze, I couldn’t help smiling wryly. But it’s all very confusing.

Other things we meant to do fell through too. We were too chilled and unenthusiastic to hang about, so we went home without buying any food.

While looking for my current journal, I found an older, completed, one. There was this entry:

Saturday 8 January 2006

…I told Mum if there was an award for salesmen who can talk without stopping to draw breath, I would give it to him. There’s nothing worse – the last thing one needs is long sentences… speeches. Easier to chop them up into bits when you’re not following very well – makes it easier, I mean. Like hitting a ball back and forth – yes? yes! yes! yes? Rather than the whole of Swan Lake followed by drooping silence (“huh?”).

Just putting that thought into words.

I wanted to be shown things – “this is the close-up filter, it’s Β£15.”
“Yes, please.”
“OK, and this is the skylight filter…”
I felt instead I had to stare at each item for a long time while he talked and occasionally the others interrupted to ask something – and he’d already sold it to me the moment he got it off the hook and put it on the table!

In spite of that, I really wasn’t bad – there have been days I was feeling much more claustrophobic, especially in camera shops.

Tuesday 10 January 2006

Last night I took the tree down and actually cried! I had to lie down to recover – that might have been the last time I ever take it down. New Christmas tree for next year.

Oh look…. I mentioned the ‘C’ word. :mrgreen: